


In Your Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at some point in the future after the turtles have managed to fix everything: Karai pulls a shoulder when training with Leo. Leo makes it up to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Hands

Training with Leo is one of Karai's favorite things. She favors the runs through the city, all adrenaline and suppressed glee and competition that always ends the same: With a clash on a roof or fire escape or alleyway floor, their swords singing while they laugh and fight and throw insults at each other. There is something to it that is childish, a regression to those first sparks that flew between them.

Karai loves it. 

Loves it maybe too much, sometimes, when the two of them come home with cuts that need stitches, or bruises that won't fade for a week -- but there is a love in that, too, knowing that their swords will never cut so deep it won't heal. They know that these wounds do not go to the heart. 

Tonight, it is Karai who suffers from their slip-up. They've kept their swords sheathed in favor of hand-to-hand combat, and she doesn't anticipate Leo catching her by her elbow before she pivots. Her shoulder snaps short -- she gasps. Leo lets go before her body's finished recoiling, but it's too late; her shoulder's been pulled. Karai puts a hand to her shoulder and hops back, two quick steps. She grins at him, wild and fierce, and drops her hand. She can still fight.

But Leo's not chasing her, anymore. "Oh, man -- are you okay?"

"Let's find out!" Karai says, turning already, focusing all her power into her legs. Leo catches her kicks against the back of his forearms, a defense that isn't in the least bit interesting. Karai sinks into a low pose and hisses out a sigh of disappointment. "I'm fine, Leo. Really! You haven't won yet."

Leo crosses his arms across his chest. "Prove -- " Karai leaps before he can finish and kicks him square in the jaw, sending him spinning into a trashcan. He groans and pushes himself onto his hands and knees. "That's not funny," he says.

"I've had worse than this," Karai says. She puts her hand on her hip and winces; wrong hand. She isn't quick enough to adjust her posture. Leo narrows his eyes and stands. "Give me a break, Leo."

"What would be the point of training, now? What do you have to prove to me?" 

"Please," Karai starts, ready to roll her eyes and go in for another strike. But -- he's right. This is something that her father is adamant about. This is something _she_ is adamant about, on her good days. She is not with the Shredder, anymore. She is not his weapon.

Leo seems to know he's gotten to her, his frown is turning into a smirk -- _you know I'm right_ \-- the kind of face that's started a thousand fights. Before it can get under her skin, however, his face relaxes into a gentler expression, neutral and composed. "C'mon," he says, holding out his hand. "Let's go home for the night." 

Karai shrugs -- winces -- and takes his hand. "Fine," she says, but she is smiling when she does.

*

Back at the lair, Leo takes an icepack from Icecream Kitty, and they sit together on the couch, Karai holding the ice to her shoulder, Leo leaning with his arm over the back of the couch. The ice helps, but as her endorphins ebb, she's more acutely aware of the pain, a dull throb that will linger for several days. What a waste of time. 

Still, it's amusing to watch the daily madness in the lair unfold -- Mikey finding whatever trouble will most amuse him, Raph training in the corner until he becomes said trouble, strange noises and smells from Donnie's lair that are more fitting for a magician than a scientist. When Leo leaves to pounce on Raph and Mikey's rolling pile of limbs, Karai doesn't mind -- just laughs and shakes her head. Her home had always been so silent, the Shredder's grief making every room a tomb. She had been quiet of heart, tremulous, kept alive only by her anger. The Shredder, too, had kept her alive only by anger -- something they have in common. Had in common.

Her icepack has nearly melted when Donnie kneels behind her and touches her hand. "Do you need me to look at that?" he asks. 

A month ago, this small kindness would have made her flinch away -- but it's familiar, now. She smiles and waves. "It's fine," she says. "I'm not so sure they are, though," she says, pointing at the other three, who are huddled in a corner, trying to fix the VCR before Donnie notices.

"What the -- oh, are you guys _kidding me?_ That's the third time this month!" 

Karai holds the melted icepack in her lap and laughs. 

*

Later that night, after the VCR has been fixed and icepack tucked away, Karai is trying to stretch out the pain in her arm when there is a tap at her shoji screen. She lifts her head. "What's the matter?" she asks, not bothering to keep the grin out of her voice. "Can't bear to be away from me for a whole night?"

Leo pushes the screen back and steps into the space that has become her room. "Something like that."

"I'm fine, Leo. Really. It's just sore."

"I know that." Leo kneels in front of her, places his hands on his knees. It is such an innocent gesture. His kindness still hurts, sometimes. "But if I can, I want to help." 

Karai says nothing to that. She waits, leaning back on her good arm. The longer she stretches the silence, the more Leo tenses, his face flushing. When he is _almost_ too flustered, she tilts her head. "Okay, then," she says, and reaches for him. When she brushes her fingers against the back of his hand, it twitches. 

"O-okay." He swallows, and that is enough for him to regain his composure. He scoots behind her and gently guides her forward until her elbows are resting on her knees and he can access the shoulder. "Let me know if the pain is too much." 

Slowly, he presses the heel of his hand against Karai's back, close to her shoulder. She hisses in pain, but doesn't move and doesn't speak; after a moment, he presses again, firmer, massaging in slow circles that converge slowly on the point of pain. With each touch, the pain spikes and then ebbs, lower and lower, until Karai is panting through her teeth. But the longer he works, the easier the pain becomes, the warmth of his touch seeping through her loose shirt, making her groan softly.

He knows exactly how to take down a human, knows how every inch of her works -- or nearly enough -- and it's not long before the pain abates to a low, dull ache, and his steady, broad hands are bringing her more pleasure than pain. With the pain abating, it gives Karai the chance to focus on the strangeness of his hands on her body, the thick, broad fingers, the steady and focused way he works. Her center tightens; her nipples are hard, the subtle rocking movements of her body making it more apparent as they rub against her shirt. 

Leo is very, very good at this. 

The more that Karai relaxes into his touches, the tenser he becomes, as if he's siphoning out her pain -- but she knows that's not the case, that it's the shifting of her body, the way her breaths are deepening. The soft, thankful moans that she is not bothering to check. There are some things about her that he is new to -- that they are both new to -- and this is her favorite, the way she can work down to his core with just a few movements. 

His hands stray from her shoulder, moving to the back of her neck; she shivers and leans back into it. Her neck and spine pops, and she groans again, then touches his wrist. "Let me take my shirt off," she says. 

Leo freezes. "Your...what?"

Her shoulder is still aching, but it is a warm, dull ache, now, not nearly bad enough to stay her hands. She pulls her shirt off and drops it to the side; Leo sucks in a sharp breath. This is the first time Leo has seen her in her bra -- and while it is a sports bra, only as provocative as any number of women running in the street, she knows that for Leo, it's different.

It's different for her, too.

"It'll make it easier," she says. "Go on." 

"Um," Leo says. She glances over her shoulder at him; her pulse picks up between her legs when she sees the deep flush in his face, the way his gaze darts over her exposed back. His voice is thin when he says, "Okay." 

Even before he puts his hands on her, she knows what she wants, so concretely that it startles her. Karai has entertained the idea of touching Leo, letting him touch her -- but only rarely, always more interested in capturing him, in hurting him, and then in being captured by him, and held. In the washed-out green light of the lair, it's easy to picture how she will goad his hands down her body, down between her legs. 

For now, though, she focuses on the slow, slow way his fingers reach for her and pause over her skin. His fingertip finds an old scar between her shoulderblades and traces it, such a short path. She hadn't needed stitches. At the time, she had hardly even felt the pain. He finds another, traces it, too -- begins gently mapping out her body's imperfections. Each new touch makes her more aware of herself, the heat rising through her, the persistent heartbeat between her legs. 

"Leo," she says. He pauses, his hand flattening against her good shoulderblade. When she doesn't continue, he begins massaging her again, working her shoulders and neck, each touch a little firmer, the way he might kiss her. 

"Leo," Karai says, and spreads her legs. She takes his hand and guides it down to her thigh, lets it rest there -- lets him do what he will. Leo tenses. He hasn't moved closer to her, but his body is palpable, as if it's pressed up against her, an electric heat that she wants to consume. 

Then, as if he hadn't hesitated at all, he slides his hand up her thigh and presses it between her legs. Karai gasps and arches up; Leo braces his other hand against her back, holding her steady. Tentatively, he presses his fingers against her, moving slowly up to the edge of her labia, then down, under the curve of her body, until his fingertips reach her ass. Karai leans into his hands, arching back, canting her hips forward, and he slides his hand back again, cupping her. He stays like that, motionless, just holding the warmth of her body. 

"I -- I don't know -- "

"Here," Karai says. She takes his hand, lines her fingers up with his, and begins to rock her hips into his palm. She pushes his index finger against her clit - and god, it's so big, would fill her - and moans when he rubs, more to encourage than anything else, though a sharp thrill of lust runs through her when he hits her just right. She wants to feel his skin on her naked lips, wants his calloused fingertips grinding at her clit, but she's not sure if she'll make it to that, wants to keep rolling her hips against him, his hand big and strong enough to brace her weight. "Just -- just keep doing that -- oh, _fuck._ " 

The friction of her underwear is driving her mad; she's going to have to peel her underwear off, going to have to peel herself off the floor. Her hips grind faster, quick desperate movements, and Leo's hands match her, grinding through her pants with more and more energy, more confidence. He leans into her, his breath hot against the back of her neck, and presses a tentative kiss to her spine -- then another one, wetter, braver, to the side of her neck, sucking his way down to her sore shoulder. 

And somehow, the soreness is only intensifying her waves of pleasure, the intense tingling in her thighs, the white-hot need between her legs -- because Leo did this to her, because he never meant to, because his first instinct was to stop, to bring her an icepack, to work the pain out of her body -- because Leo is so, so good to her, when the world has been so cruel. 

Karai comes, her body jerking, her mind stuttering to a stop. It is the kindest thing Leo has done for her, yet.

When she reorients, she is slumped against Leo's shell, her arms limp at her side. Leo dots her shoulder and neck with kisses; his hands are shaking as they pet her thighs and stomach. "Karai?" he whispers, nuzzling her jaw. "Karai, that was...this is..."

Her body is still buzzing; when she shifts, she can feel slickness dampening her thighs, and she smiles. "Good."

*

Training with Leo is one of Karai's favorite things, yes -- honing their art and pushing their bodies to the brink is an exhilaration that she could chase forever. There are many ways to train, however -- and many ways to push. None so pleasant as this.


End file.
